Wayne's Boys: Jason and the Argonauts
by KatHarkness-Katara
Summary: A new routine is starting up, and everyone seems to be finding their own groups, except Dick. Poor Nightwing. What's he going to do, but invite his old friends over to revel in old times, and commiserate about new ones? No way that can go wrong...right? Follows on from Family Ties. No slash; rated for language and violent themes.
1. Chapter 1: Kicking Off

**Jason and the Argonauts Chapter 1 Kick-Off**

**Last time on Wayne's Boys: Bruce settled down with Dick, Jason, Tim, Damian and Cass, and Dick and Babs and Tim and Steph maintain steady relationships while all eight run around Gotham, righting wrongs and kicking bad-guy butt. An investigation into new kid on the block Huntress reveals her to be an extra-dimensional daughter of Bruce and Selina, prompting Bruce to adopt her into the family.**

**AN: As everyone liked the "everyday" adventures in the last arc, I'll be flipping between the main storyline (starting here) and extra mini-adventures. For this reason, please pay attention to the dates heading each chapter.**

_Friday, 12__th__ December_

Dick was bored. He raised one hand, balancing upside down on a fixed trapeze with just his left. His right swept back, releasing the trapeze, sending him swinging forward. He turned it into a triple flip and hooked his knees onto the next trapeze. Then he sighed. Still bored. "Hey, Tim?"

"Hmm?" The boy, technically on spotting duty (really, Bruce didn't trust him not to fall?), didn't look up from his microcomputer. Bruce had taken it back after his fingers healed enough for him to use a normal keyboard. He'd then sulked for a week until Bruce had returned it. The fourteen-year-old and his gadget were now inseparable.

"D'you want to go out with me tonight?" the acrobat asked, closing his eyes to enjoy the slight swaying effect of the trapeze.

Tim made an odd strangled sound. "Have you discussed that with Babs?" Dick snapped his eyes open, bunching his eyebrows together at the strange look being sent his way. "I mean, I never thought I was your type," the younger boy continued. "And, sorry, but you're not really mine. I'm quite happy with Steph. And the incest thing; does it apply in adoption?"

Dick swung away, landing in a handspring on a half-height platform and back-somersaulting to the floor as he attempted not to fall in an undignified heap. "Tim, I meant _patrol_, not a _date_, and-" the teen's smirk cut him off. "And you knew that, you devious little-!"

Tim was clearly deriving far too much pleasure from the deliberate "misunderstanding", but wilted slightly under Dick's disappointed gaze. "Sorry, sorry, okay?" he said. "Yeah, I know what you meant. I have a Titans meeting this evening…" His voice tailed off, muttering something about the League's teleporters.

"Is _everyone_ off with teams today?" Dick groaned. "Bruce was planning to take Damian along to the League meeting, Cass is doing something with the Outsiders, Jason's touching home-base with his contacts, Babs and Helena are chatting with Black Canary about forming their own group…Everyone's busy."

"Erm…Steph's coming with me?" Tim offered weakly.

Dick collapsed against the wall next to Tim. "I'm. Bored," he complained. "Haven't heard a peep from any of the Arkhamites for a more than a month. Gangs are quiet. No mysterious murders or thefts or anything. What's there to do?"

"You're _upset_ that things are quiet?" Tim asked.

"_Frustrated_," Dick corrected.

"Well, just have a nice long patrol and burn off the excess energy," Tim said, rolling his eyes.

Dick grunted. Tim was right; he was just so worn down by the monotony. Not even his studies at college offered much distraction; a serious downside to studying a subject he'd pretty much mastered by his twelfth birthday. Perhaps a new language? He'd been teaching Helena Romani lately, but she wasn't around…

"Yeah, I'll go prepare for patrol," he decided, rising to his feet.

Before he could go more than two steps, Bruce looked through the door. "Dick, there you are," he said. "You can take the night off. Barbara wants to give her group the run of the city." He disappeared before Dick could protest.

Dick fixed the now quietly-giggling Tim with a glare. "Life," he decided, "sucks."

* * *

><p>Another place.<p>

Another _time_.

They could not be found. If they were found, they would be disbanded. And that would break them all.

It was generally easy. As technology advanced, so did they. Cameras fooled with distortion fields. Eyes-in-the-sky bamboozled with stealth training. Keeping the secret, keeping going.

But now there were some new kids on the block. New kids with new talents and new priorities and thus a new threats. Which led to new schemes and new contingency protocols. There were even plans to turn their discovery to their advantage, not just damage control.

And it seemed those plans were about to be enacted.

The girl _ran_, desperate. Usually she was the predator, now she was the prey. Her pursuers were hot on her heels. She bobbed and weaved; sprinted and slid into shadow. It was futile. She could not outrun them; they were too fast. Nor could she hide. For all her skill at stealth (and that was her speciality), her opponents had the edge there as well. It was only a matter of time before they caught her.

And when they did, she'd lose everything.

But that was no reason to roll over and yield. One of the many principles drilled into her all her life was that of no surrender. Her people simply weren't the kind to allow anything to curtail their business until they'd taken every option.

Which would make her run until cornered, and when cornered, fight until overwhelmed. The greater the attention she brought to the pursuit and eventual combat, the more warning her people would get. It was just a matter of balancing the warning she'd give with revealing her existence to the world in general.

She ducked into a long dark shadow, pulled her black cape close around her, and reversed course. She twisted through the darkness, hoping she'd lost pursuers, but knowing it couldn't last long. All too soon, she emerged into the light, and ran for the next shadow.

The process repeated several times over, until finally she ran into someone. She staggered back, regaining her footing in an instant. She turned, and collided with another of her pursuers who'd seemingly come out of thin air.

She twisted, trying to get away, but more of her predators arrived and boxed her in. A pair of nunchuks found their way into her hands, and moved in a swirl of force and velocity, smacking soundly into the first one who'd stopped her. That one flew back, but the second was out of range for the rebound. She tried to advance, but a third attacker grabbed her, pulled her back and tried to get her in a lock.

Several minutes, some intense struggling, a couple of injuries and one lucky blow later, she slipped free. But two steps later, a massive pressure pushed her down, focusing on her hands, feet and waist. She twisted and struggled, but could not free herself.

"Stop struggling," a voice instructed, and she looked up to see the leader of her opponents, flanked by his two seconds-in-command. "You'll only hurt yourself."

The girl pulled once more, deliberately wrenching the shoulder she'd dislocated minutes before. Pain blossomed throughout her system; and rather than suppressing it, as was standard, she focused on it, until her entire mind was filled with the agony, except for a small slit of consciousness though which she could see her captors. "Let me go," she demanded.

"Not after what you've done," the male second said and knelt next to her. He dug his fingers under her mask, and the security system kicked in. Electric sparks flew, and the female second winced, before the mask came away, baring the girl's bluish eyes. She ducked her head, her wealth of long black hair pooling around her shoulders. The leader sucked in a breath.

"How old _are_ you?" he asked. "Sixteen? Seventeen?"

"Old enough," she retorted. The leader and seconds exchanged glances.

"If you come with us, be one of us, we'll forget everything," he offered. "Stop what you're doing. There's so much good you could be doing."

The girl considered for the briefest moment. This was what the contingency plans led to; to give her people the best chance. "Okay."

The leader smiled. "Excellent. What's your name?"

The pressure vanished and she forced herself upright. "Huntress."

**AN2: If you want to find out just what's going on in the last section, you'll have to come back.**

**Also updating today: Black and Red, another story in the WB-verse.**

**Please, please review!**

**Katara**


	2. Chapter 2: Six at School

**Jason and the Argonauts Chapter 2 Six at School**

_Friday, 7__th__ November 2014_

Friday was Tim's favourite school day. Afternoon classes were replaced with sport and gym for the entire high school cohort of Gotham Academy, the teachers taking a break from history and math to teach their favourite sports. Tim and the others had to cut lunch short a little in order to change into gym kit in private, with no-one ogling their scars. But Tim did get to spend time with Steph, seeing as Ms Hopkins the English/Drama teacher took a gymnastics class for both genders.

That was one sport they never had to worry about over-performing in. After all, it _was_ fairly well known that there was a formerly pro acrobat in the family. That was the main reason Jason and Cass joined. They'd been teasing Helena about what they could get away with all week.

It was just a pity normal sport had been cancelled.

"Okay, darlings," Ms Hopkins simpered to the large group of 14-18 year olds in the largest hall. "As you know, the Christmas show will be coming up in less than two months, and wouldn't it be splendid if we did a performance of the Greek classics?" She clapped her hands in excitement. "In interpretive dance!"

Groans filled the hall. "Is it too late to rethink this whole adoption thing?" Helena muttered.

"We could pretend to be sick?" Steph said desperately.

"Can't afford to waste the excuse," Tim moaned. Plus Bruce would be _furious_ when he caught on.

"Now, now, this'll be fun!" Ms Hopkins said delightedly. "I have the names of a few people I think will be excellent from my drama and gymnastics classes."

"Oh sh-" Jason breathed, before Tim cut him off with an elbow to the ribs.

"I will read out the names," the madwoman taking centre stage continued, brandishing a piece of paper. "And they will take to the stage and show everyone how it's done." She cleared her throat. "Timothy Drake-Wayne!"

Tim felt panic descend. _If only_ they could quit school for full time crime fighting. _Anything_ to escape interpretive dance. He'd fake continued finger injury if he thought Ms Hopkins would buy it. "I'm not here!" he hissed, trying to hide behind Jason.

"You're not getting out of it that easily," Jason said with an audible smirk. He turned and grabbed Tim's left arm before he could squirm through the crowd. Catching Jason's drift, Cass seized his other arm, and between them they dragged Tim towards the stage.

"I _will_ tell Dick, and he _will_ hug you to death," Tim hissed angrily, knowing that it would take more skill than he could afford to reveal he had to escape his siblings.

"No you won't," Jason replied quietly but with the utmost confidence. "If you do, you'll be admitting it happened, and with the footage I'm gonna get…"

"You wouldn't."

"And just think who Dickie-bird would send it to," Jason continued smugly.

"Fine," Tim capitulated reluctantly. "But we've all agreed. _This never happened._"

He heard giggles from behind him, and guessed Steph and Helena were trailing along in their wake. "Besides, I can guess at least three other names on that list. Now get off, Jay, Cass."

The older two released him, allowing him to walk unaided onto the stage.

"Excellent," Ms Hopkins bubbled. "Now, I will read out this narration, and you will express it as dance. Off you go then. 'I shelter from the cold as the night wind howls around me'…"

Tim started with the gesture for 'shelter' in their speechless language, madly exaggerating it for the benefit of his audience. Moving into an equally exaggerated 'protect', he flowed with the grace he'd learnt for roof-running and martial arts. For each sentence the teacher gave, he translated and broadcast it as gracefully as possible.

"Fabulous, my dear, simply fabulous!" Ms Hopkins cried as he finished. Now let's see what your brother can do.

Tim hopped off the stage, and was caught by Jason. "How did you _do_ that?" he hissed.

"It's just shouting in gestural," Tim whispered, palming Jason's camera phone. Revenge time.

Jason's performance was short, sharp and just a little heavy-handed – quite like his fighting style. Cass was up next, and likewise mimicked her fighting on being precise and beautifully efficient. Except she'd chosen to use micro-gestures to elaborate on just how little she thought of the poem she danced to.

"Excellent, simply fantastic. Thank you, you three. Now, everyone, split into groups and try those dances."

"That was hell," Jason murmured as the five congregated to one side. "Who'd have thought _interpretive dance_ would turn out to be one of our skills?"

"_There_ you are; I thought you'd all be together," the annoyingly cheerful voice came. They all turned to see the thrice-cursed Drama teacher, beaming brightly. "Now, Stephanie, it's your turn next, and then, ah…" she faltered.

"Helena, Mrs Hopkins," Helena supplied, deliberately giving the wrong title.

"Um, yes, of course," she said, wilting slightly.

Steph and Helena's performances were judged to be more than satisfactory in short order.

"I think I have just the thing for you, but we need one more," Ms Hopkins said pensively. "Someone you'll work well with."

A crafty thought occurred to Tim. "Cass, why don't you get Damian?"

"Fabulous!"

Damian arrived, and was put through his paces, less reluctantly after seeing Cass' recorded performance. His interpretation involved how much he wanted to beat up Ms Hopkins, kill Tim and Cass, and utterly destroy anyone who told Dick.

"Perfect!" the teacher exclaimed. "We just need a narrator, but that won't be a problem. _You_ will perform Oedipus!"

"Please, no…" Tim moaned.

**AN: This chapter is, as you should have noticed, set about five weeks before the first chapter. Remember: dates at the start of the chapters.**

**Most of this chapter was written in an A&E department. It's only a sprain, but I went straight there from work, and only had the notebook I'd brought along for a bit of writing over lunch. But if it wasn't for that, it'd probably be another day or two before this went out.**

**Anyway, also updating now: Little Bird's Vengeance. Next week, more from both stories.**

**Please review!**

**Katara**


	3. Chapter 3: Disappointments

**Jason and the Argonauts Chapter 3 Disappointments**

_Friday, 12__th__ December 2014_

The punching bag flew across the cave. Dick's temper did not improve. Being bench just when he needed to _get out_ and _do something_ was just so unbelievably frustrating. It was even worse than an injury benching; at least there was some sense to that.

Morosely, he retrieved the punching bag. The seam had split, guaranteeing Bruce would be irritated, but it was only a punching bag. If it was anything (anyone) else, Bruce would be _furious_.

Dick flung himself into the chair and stared at the Batcomputer's screen. He stuck his foot out and pushed on one of the desk legs. He spun himself around several times before catching himself. Now he was bored, frustrated _and_ dizzy.

The roar of a motorbike approached. Eager for a distraction, Dick whirled around, sprang up, felt his head spin, wobbled, and righted himself before he could facepalm on the cold hard floor. "Steph!" he exclaimed. "Come to see your surrogate big bro?"

"Smooth," Spoiler chuckled. "I hear you're got boredom issues and propositioned my boyfriend. Dismounting, she waggled her finger at him. "Naughty, naughty."

"I think I need to prank Tim," Dick said grumpily. "Any ideas?"

"I dunno. Put a picture of your bits as his micro's desktop or something," Spoiler suggested, jokingly.

"Great idea, thanks Steph," Dick perked up. Getting the micro would be the really hard bit, but he might be able to get Babs to put in a program that would delay when the new desktop appeared…plus, the pun was _hilarious_. "You are a genius."

"Why's Steph a genius?" Tim asked, appearing at the top of the stairs, engrossed in his micro. "Hi, gorgeous. I mean, not that she isn't, but what's brought it on this time?"

"You'll see," Dick chirped.

"Right," Tim said distractedly. "Figured out what you're doing tonight, then?"

Dick wilted. "What's there _to_ do?" he asked rhetorically. "I'm benched, 'member?"

"Learn Flemish?" Tim suggested. "Why don't you try acting like a normal person? Watch a movie or something."

"That's only fun when Cass is adding subtitles for what the actors really think," Dick noted.

"Play video games, help Alfred bake, call a friend, _something_." Tim sighed. "Steph and I have to go. Babe?"

"Later, Dick," Spoiler waved, stepping on the teleport with Tim. They vanished.

"Something normal," Dick thought aloud. "What do normal people do?"

* * *

><p>Elsewhen.<p>

Huntress pounded the punching bag. Right, left, right, left, side kick, left elbow, spin, left, right, knee. She had never been fitter, Never been more capable. Never been more driven.

Never been more _useless_.

It had long been believed that there were two essentials in the business: ability and drive. It was possible to manage with only one or the other, but the result would be short or lackluster career. And merely inheriting a position did not supply drive.

Well, she had drive aplenty now.

They'd always known that they wouldn't be able to hide from the new kids. Well, they _could_, but only by completely ceasing operations.

Batman Incorporated did _not_ roll over and die. Not on the cards.

Huntress was now insinuated deep in the heart of their rivals. Nothing wrong with the newbies, but they were supporting and supported by the people who most wanted to shut them down. Bad luck, kiddies; Bats don't do losing.

They'd made up a contingency plan. Whoever the new kids found first, that person would enact the plan. They would get in with their rivals, and rewire their computer systems to go through B Inc's system. They would explain their work to the others, so that if B Inc was exposed, they'd at least be sympathetic. But they may never be free to see the family again.

Huntress was unlucky to be the one. Her new 'friends' firmly believed her incapable. They'd deny it, but it was true. She was nothing more than a pet, right when she'd truly become Huntress.

**AN: Sorry, couldn't resist Dick's prank. Steph wasn't expecting him to take it seriously.**

**Remember to keep track of the dates; we'll be bouncing back a few weeks next chapter.**

**Also this week: LBV. Coming soon: Black and Red.**

**Please review!**

**Katara**


	4. Chapter 4: Moving On

**Jason and the Argonauts Chapter 4 Moving On**

_Saturday, 8__th__ November 2014_

It was only a week and a half since Helena had found her new home, and the wariness she'd long harboured had yet to wear off. But the lease on her small East End apartment was almost up, and she wasn't going to need it any more. Time to move out.

There wasn't a whole lot there anyway. It was a workplace. She had files, and research, her 'professional' computer, her gear and disguises. Beyond that, it was a place to sleep if she crashed out after patrol, clean up, and get a bite to eat.

"How long do you think this will take?" Dick asked, parking the largest not-flashy car in the Wayne fleet outside the block.

"Depends how fast you pack crates," Helena shrugged, popping the trunk and pulling out a suitcase full of collapsible crates. Dick grabbed a cool box and followed her into the building.

"What are you doing with your other place?" he asked. "I take it you're not losing it as well?"

"Bruce offered to buy it outright," Helena answered. "I think I'll take him up on it. Just hope he doesn't go overboard."

"Buy the whole block and put it in your name so you get a steady income from the other tenants? Yeah, he'll probably do that." Dick grinned. "He did that when _I_ got my apartment, and I think also with Cass, and Jason's."

"Tim and Damian don't have their own places?"

"Dami doesn't, but he probably will in a few years. Tim inherited some property from his parents. Drake Manor's rented out, but he's still got the city apartment for himself."

"And Bruce _didn't_ buy him the block?"

"He wanted to, but Tim convinced him to investigate the continued structural viability of the Bunker instead." Dick shrugged. "Tim had to prove he could maintain the apartment from his house's rent. He keeps his property finances completely separate from everything Wayne."

"So he's got a safety net if the accounts are seized," Helena mused, unlocking her front door. "What's this about a bunker?"

"The Bunker was an old secondary base Bruce and I made," Dick explained. "It was damaged in the quake. Dami and I tried to remodel it when I was Batman, but it's more trouble than it's worth. We built the Secret Annexe instead. I think Bruce is having the Bunker blocked off during the Secret Annexe refurbishment."

"You'll have to tell meal about later," Helena nodded, pulling the crates out of the suitcase and putting them on the lounge coffee table. "Can you get the books and files in here, and the stuff in the kitchen?"

"Sure," he nodded, reassembling the first crate.

Helena left him to it. She entered the bedroom and set the suitcase on the bed. She didn't have much to pack. There were several sets of normal clothes, but mostly disguises. A modest variety, from 'Holly Walker's' hot hooker look, to vagrant's rags, to a burka. These filled up just over half the suitcase, followed by various dyes, coloured contacts, and stage makeup. Then a quick pop into the bathroom to gather her towels and toiletries.

Returning, she moved the suitcase to the dressing table and stripped the bed. Squashing the bedclothes into the suitcase, she sealed it up and retrieved a box from under the bed.

"Helena, is it just the one plate, bowl, cup, set of cutlery you have?" Dick asked, entering the bedroom. "Hey, what's that?"

"Yeah; I don't entertain here," Helena shrugged, opening the box.

"That your old costume?" Dick asked, looking at the red and green Robin suit.

"Yup," Helena nodded. "Took after Mom. You know, rob from the rich, give to the poor. Robin Hood."

"My mom said I flit around like a little bird, a little robin," Dick murmured. "I miss her and Dad every day. Bruce is wonderful, and I love him to bits, but it's not the same." He took a deep breath, and sighed. "I hope they'd be proud of me, but I know they wouldn't begrudge letting me move on. If your dad's anything like Bruce, he'd be the same."

"I know that in my head, but sometimes it's so far from my heart," Helena whispered, and slumped into Dick's embrace as she mourned all she'd lost.

**AN: Quick query. I've been considering cross-posting on AO3, with podcasts. Good? Bad?**

**Also updating now-ish, Jason and the Argonauts. Next week, Little Bird's Vengeance and JA.**

**Please review!**

**Katara**


	5. Chapter 5: The Game

**Jason and the Argonauts Chapter 5 The Game**

"Okay," Dick started. "I'll be one, Donna two, Wally three, Garth four, Roy five, and six is roll again."

"Why am I always five?" Roy complained.

"Because it amuses me to her you whine," Dick answered, rolling his eyes. With a flick of his wrist, he sent a normal six-sided die bouncing across the circle. "Wally, you're up."

The speedster snatched up the cube and sent it spinning. It landed on two. "Donna, truth or dare?" Wally grinned.

"I'll start it safe. Truth," the Amazon answered.

"No such thing as safe in truth or dare," Wally smirked. "Have you ever fancied any of us four?"

"Oh, yeah, all of you at one time or another," Donna shrugged. "Never anything terribly serious, or long lasting. But you're all reasonably attractive, all well able to hold your own in a fight, all got a strong sense of right and wrong, all know how to treat a woman right. I was never really in love with any of you, but there were moments when I wanted to be."

"Only reasonably attractive?" Dick teased.

"You've just too scarred," Donna smirked. She rolled the die. "Wally. Truth or dare?"

"Ooh, dare."

"Paint your Flash symbol on the giant globe at the Daily Planet."

Dick snickered. "Clark'll be furious."

"We'll see about that," Wally smirked. He vanished, and reappeared about a minute later.

Dick pulled over a laptop he'd left nearby. "Let's have a look," he said. The satellite image program was already open – there'd been enough games in Titans Tower for him to know it would be a good idea. It didn't take long to zero in on Metropolis.

"You didn't," he said, horrified.

"What?" Roy asked, coming over to look. His laughter quickly brought the other former Titans.

"I said _Flash_ symbol, not _Bat_ symbol," Donna chuckled.

"I did. It's right there." Wally pointed at the left ear, where a tiny speck of white and yellow could just about be seen.

"That's just cruel," Dick pouted.

"Laugh it up, former Boy Wonder," Wally snarked, rolling the die. "Roy. Truth or dare?"

What the hell. Dare."

"Okay. I dare you to call Clark, and ask him how he likes the Planet's new paint job." Wally sat back, grinning.

"You know it'll seem like I'm gloating," Roy said rhetorically. "He might try to sic Ollie on me." He grinned. "Let 'im try." He pulled out his phone and dialled the number. "Hey, Clark? Quick question. How d'you like the Planet's new paint job? Oh, nothing. Say hi to Ollie for me." He hung up. "Who's next to be doomed?"

"Your roll," Garth told him, passing the die.

"Right." Roy sent the small cube flying, and cursed when it came up six. He rolled again, getting a single dot. "Dick," he grinned.

"After what _someone_ did in Metropolis, I think I'll have to keep a low profile. Truth."

"Damn, and I had a great dare for you," Roy grumbled. "Okay. Just why are you so wound up about being benched tonight?"

Dick cocked his head and frowned. It was a good question. "I guess it's because I know I _could_ be doing something to help but I'm stuck at home. It just takes one night off for a disaster to happen, you know. I mean, boredom is a factor, but so is frustration, and concern."

"You lot take everything so personally," Donna commented.

"It's the way we live," Dick said simply. "We _have_ to put everything in, or he just couldn't do it. Pass the die." It clattered across the floor. "Garth. What's your peril?"

"Dare," the Atlantean decided.

"Right." Dick sat up a little straighter. "You know the large fountain in front of the manor? It's got goldfish. I dare you to have a conversation with them, and find out their favourite food."

"Sounds easy," Garth shrugged. He rose, and left the room.

Dick quickly grabbed the laptop and accessed the manor's security cameras.

"Did you know the fountain was frozen over?" Donna asked mildly.

"Jay and Dami were experimenting with one of Freeze's guns," Dick shrugged. "It's okay; look they left an icepick."

On screen, Garth bashed a hole in the ice, made a clear area, and stuck his head underwater. After a few minutes, he went back inside.

"They have only ever had one type of food, and it is adequate," he announced, reaching for the die.

The dares flew thick and fast after that. Roy had to get Wally to give him a lift to Washington DC to slop green paint all over the statue of Lincoln. Dick stole Damian's sword. Wally put it on top of Ayer's Rock. Garth admitted that, of all sea creatures, he disliked crabs the most. Donna sent an email to the Daily Planet's comment page criticising the amount of flesh Wonder Woman revealed. Then it was Dick's turn again.

"I'll take another truth, before you have me sabotaging Jay's guns," the acrobat said.

"How'd you guess?" Roy grumbled.

"Speaking of Jason, why did Bruce cover up his death?" Donna asked.

Dick winced. It was hard for any of them to forget returning from Tamaran to several increasingly messages from Bruce, culminating in the notification of Jason's death and the date of the burial – two days before they arrived home.

"I don't know," he said at last. "I assumed Bruce wasn't thinking rationally. It would have been easier to admit Jason died than to cover it up and just say he ran away, but with what happened…after, I'm kinda glad he did."

Donna stared at him. "I propose a new rule. If you don't know the answer to a truth, you have to find out."

"Oh no," Dick protested. "I'm not bringing this up with Bruce."

"Then read his files," Donna suggested, rolling her eyes. "Do some detective work."

"I approve," Garth chipped in.

"Me three," Roy added.

"I'll make it four, then. Out voted, Dick," Wally smirked.

"Fine," Dick capitulated unhappily. "But if I'm pulling skeletons out of the closet, you're all helping me."

**AN: I forget exactly where I first came across the Truth or Dare idea, but there's so much you can get from it.**

**Also today, more Little Bird's Vengeance. Next, more LBV and more Argonauts.**

**Please review!**

**Katara**


	6. Chapter 6: In Memoriam

**Jason and the Argonauts Chapter 6 In Memoriam**

_Saturday, 8__th__ November 2014_

Bruce carefully closed the display cabinet containing his new daughter's first costume. This section of the cave had Dick, Jason and Tim's old Robin suits, Babs, Cass and Steph's old Batgirl suits, Steph's old Spoiler suit and Dick's Batsuit.

"What else do you need to do?" he asked her. "It has been several years since you arrived here. What did you do during that time?"

"I had a go at being Batgirl, during the No Man's Land disaster," she said hesitantly. "I just put one of those bat t-shirts sold to morons over my Robin suit and wore Dad's cape and cowl."

"That was you?" Bruce asked, impressed. Even though there was clear evidence _someone_ was operating in Gotham's ruins, they'd never found more than a rumour of the possible Batgirl. "Do you want to hang those here, as well?" he asked. "I doubt Barbara would mind."

"I still wear Dad's cape," Holly murmured shyly.

"Bad idea; better get your own," Bruce said shortly. He was a good head and a half taller than her; the cape would just be too long.

"You have graves to visit; I don't," Helena replied shortly.

Bruce softened as he realised what she meant. "If you have gear tailored to you, not only will you perform better, but you'll be less likely to damage you father's cape," he said gently.

Helena hesitated. "I don't know," she wavered.

"We can make a memorial to your parents," Bruce suggested. "I – uh – "he swallowed. He was not good at this. "I want you to be happy as well as safe. You're my daughter now, and while I can't replace your father, I can try my best to do right by him."

Helena smiled sadly. "You sound like Dad trying to explain why he was mad at Mom for starting to teach me gymnastics when I was four."

"I can understand why that worried him."

Before Helena could answer, Tim entered the room. "Am I interrupting?" he asked.

Bruce glanced at Helena, who caught his eye and flicked her head in the negative. "What is it?" he asked his third son.

"I've booked a motorbike driving test for five on Monday," Tim reported. "For you, Helena, I mean. You also have an appointment with Dr Leslie Thompkins on Wednesday. Has Bruce told you about her yet? She's been Bruce's doc for years – she knows all about what we do. And I have preliminary designs for specialist and normal use suits I'd like you to look over. Your normal suits should look pretty similar to the one you already have, but with our Kevlar and smart polymer armour, an electrocuting security system, lenses in your mask, our standard grapple, comm, and so on. We can either adapt your current suit or just start again, depending on how much work would need to be done on it."

"We'll be replacing her cape, at least," Bruce stated.

Helena glanced over. "And the mask. I've been wearing Mom's."

Bruce nodded. He'd have to add that to the memorial.

"Your mother wore purple? Interesting," Tim commented. "Our Selina only ever wore gray and black."

Helena shrugged. "It looked good on her, and, well, Batgirl was taken, so…"

Bruce suppressed a wince.

Tim appeared to be staring intently at Helena's face. "Your eyes are a little smaller than Selina's," he commented. "That reminds me. Babs and I figure that it's only a matter of time before someone notices she's got your eyes, Bruce. Or does a genealogy study. We're ready to send everything into the public domain; just give us the go-ahead."

"What do you have planned?" Helena asked.

"Your 'father' was the easy one," Tim started. "Harry Kyle. Younger brother of Selina's father. Your 'mother' is more difficult. Rosa Bellino, daughter of Katarina Bellino. No father on the birth certificate. Katarina worked as a maid for the Wayne family for several years, but was dismissed for inappropriate conduct six months before the child was born."

Bruce thought it through. The implications were fairly obvious. "How old was Rosa compared to Dad?" he asked.

Tim winced. "Fifteen years younger."

"Let me get this straight," Helena said slowly. "You're making it look like Thomas Wayne's father had an affair with his maid and conceived my 'mother'. Aren't you just a bit worried about misrepresenting the Wayne family like that?"

Tim squirmed slightly and looked at his feet. "Roderigo Bellino was stillborn," he muttered. "We intend to replace him."

Bruce sighed. This answered a question he'd long forgotten to ask. "Dad had a rather serious disagreement with his father. He never told me why, but it had something to do with Grandfather's treatment of the staff."

"Do we have your approval?" Tim asked.

"I want to check over everything first," Bruce sighed. "Get those suit designs finalized as soon as possible. Helena, I want to properly introduce you to the Commissioner when you have your new suit."

"Sure," Helena nodded. She left with Tim.

Bruce grabbed a piece of paper and a pencil. He had a memorial to design.

**AN: The story about Thomas Wayne's father is made up by me. According to _The Return of Bruce Wayne_, some of Bruce's ancestors were somewhat shady. Just saying. Bruce knows that full well.**

**Also updating: Little Bird's Vengeance. Coming soon, Black and Red, and more Argonauts.**

**Please review!**

**Katara**


	7. Chapter 7: Investigate

**Jason and the Argonauts Chapter 7 Investigate**

_Friday, 12__th__ December 2014_

"Why are we all suited 'n' booted?" Arsenal demanded.

"If we're going to investigate, we're going to do it properly," Nightwing said stubbornly. "That means being ready to interrogate suspects at a moment's notice."

"Our only suspect is Batman, and I'm _not_ interrogating _him_," Flash protested.

"One day I will teach you the joys of a good investigation," Dick declared. "Sometime when we're _not_ investigating my brother's death."

"Right, fine," Troia interrupted. "Where do we start?"

"Where do _you_ think we should start?"

"B's diary," Arsenal declared.

"He doesn't have one," Nightwing pointed out.

"Somewhere no-one would find it…" Flash mused. "The Sahara Desert!"

Nightwing rolled his eyes – not that they could see it through his mask – as did Troia and Tempest. "The files," Tempest suggested.

"Not bad," Nightwing nodded. "Now, Tim rearranged all the computer files – not sure why, but his system's more efficient – so if the information was there he'd have found it."

"But you have paper files as well, right?" Troia asked. "I think you mentioned that once?"

"We do," Nightwing nodded, leading the way into one of the side caves. "We try to keep them up to date, but we also go through and check every three months. We file everything in quadlicate at least." He arrived at a cave full of filing cabinets. "Those are chronological, those geographical, those alphabetical by perpetrator, and those alphabetical by crime." He opened a cabinet at random and pulled out a single sheet. "White, Benjamin. August nineteenth, 2001. With Adamson, Robert, and Macmillan, Justin. Trevelyan Avenue. Car-jacking, joy-riding, drunk driving. Additional: due to age, received caution and fifty hours community service." He returned the page to its file. "That's a fairly simple one. The Arkhamites all have much bigger files. Everything's chronological within its subsection."

After a moment, they split up. Nightwing watched his friends winnowing through the files, to no avail.

"Nothing," Arsenal grumbled. "Just theft of drugs and double murder."

"No. If Bruce _did_ file something about it, it would be in one of _these_ cabinets." He patted a much smaller bank of cabinets, then opened the fourth drawer down and pulled out one of the files. He flicked through it. "Doesn't say," he concluded. "Just says he and his birth mother Sheila Haywood were murdered by Joker, gives the cross-references, and notes that he was buried in his mother's grave while Bruce reported him missing. It gives the cover story but not the reason for it." He returned the file to its home.

"Why didn't you show us that first?" Arsenal asked, annoyed.

"You didn't ask," Nightwing shrugged. "Didn't you think we'd have personal files? It's obvious." He led the way back to the main cave. "So, assuming he _did_ write down his reasoning, where would he put it?"

"Oh, anywhere," Flash replied, frustrated.

"Stuck to the ceiling," Arsenal suggested.

"Inside a door knob," Flash offered.

"In a safe behind an out-of-place painting," Tempest supplied.

"Secret side cave?" Troia asked.

Nightwing leant against the wall. "Why don't you go check those out?" he suggested.

Troia shot him a look that clearly said 'I know what you're up to', but started issuing orders anyway. "I'll check the ceilings, Wally can get the door knobs, Garth and Roy look for pictures, and, oh, Wally can check for side caves once he's done with the doors."

Before long, Troia, Arsenal and Tempest returned unsuccessful. The two boys glared at the unconcerned and unhelpful Nightwing. "Found something!" Flash yelled from the depths.

Nightwing quickly worked out where his former teammate was and sprinted towards him, the others hot on his heels. "No, leave that," he told Wally, who was halfway to discovering the hidden door behind a fake cave-in. "That's the way to the Miagani's caves," he explained.

"So, Dick, why don't you share what you've been trying to teach us?" Troia asked as they trooped back to the main cave again.

"I've been hanging around this place for more than a decade. Don't you think I might have just a little local knowledge. You could have asked me for help," Nightwing pointed out.

"Fine," Arsenal grumbled. "Where does Mr Local Knowledge think we should look?"

"Isn't it obvious? Right here." He stalked across the cave and pulled the sheet from over Jason's bloodied Robin costume. The sheet pooled on the floor as Nightwing opened the cabinet door. "If Bruce had a good reason, and thought there might ever be a reason for the rest of us to know, which at that point was me and Babs, then he'd have noted it down and hidden it here somewhere." He carefully removed the suit from its frame and set it aside. He deconstructed the interior, searching each nook and cranny. He finally lifted out a long pole, and found it concealing a small recess. "Bingo," he announced.

There was a thin roll of some papery material and a device about the size of his palm with a large green button. He carefully unrolled the paper. "'Dead and missing are two different mysteries. The wrong mystery may hide the right answer. R'. It's a Robin insignia; look." He showed his friends the page.

"What the _hell_ are you _doing_?!" an angry voice demanded. Nightwing looked up, suddenly nervous. Red Hood had arrived back. The other former Titans moved aside to give the two brothers access. Red Hood pulled a knife from his boot and sent it flying across the cave.

"Jason, wait-" Nightwing yelled, dodging the knife. Almost before he could blink, he could feel hands wrapped firmly around his throat. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see his friends come to his aid as he fell down, and felt his shoulder hit something hard, which depressed, and-

**AN: What just happened? All suggestions welcome. (BTW, I know, but want to hear your thoughts.)**

**For the first time in some weeks, I'm updating on the right day. Whoop whoop.**

**Also updating, Black and Red. Next week, JA and LBV.**

**Please review!**

**Katara**


	8. Chapter 8: Crash and Burn

**Jason and the Argonauts Chapter 8 Crash and Burn**

_Friday 14__th__ November_

Red Robin dropped into a sitting position on the edge of a convenient worktop and stretched his left leg, massaging the knee.

"You okay?" Spoiler asked, sitting down next to him.

"Just pulled a muscle dodging that bullet," he grunted. It was a mere irritation, but in the absence of an urgent call, he could afford to take a minute.

"Is there nothing we can do to escape Oedipus?" Spoiler asked suddenly.

"There's several options, but they're all worse than actually going ahead with it," Red Robin sighed. "Basically, we need to do it for the sake of our public images." He paused. "It could be worse. We could be doing Lysistrata."

"What's that one?"

"Lysistrata convinces Athens to withdraw from war by leading the women in refusing the men entry to their beds."

Spoiler spluttered. "Yeah, that'd be worse."

"It'll be bad enough. Just imagine how bad the 'fighting' will be in the Senior's Iliad."

"And I'm guessing B and eff-bee-wuh have to come watch," she groaned.

Red Robin grunted. "Perhaps we can get ourselves assigned to choreograph any and all fight scenes," he mused.

"That would be fun," Spoiler nodded.

Red Robin smiled, thinking of all the fun they could have working out major battle scenes, when a loud screech and a nasty crunching crash sounded. He was on his feet in an instant, turning and sprinting towards the site, Spoiler following.

Two streets over, a car was on its side. The driver's side was in the air and badly crushed. There was a female body lying some feet away in a puddle of windscreen glass.

"B, you still with Gordon?" Red Robin asked, sprinting towards the car. In the corner of his eye, he saw Spoiler heading for the girl. "RTA on Gladstone Drive. Send cops, fire, ambulance."

"One fatality," Spoiler added.

"One KO still in vehicle," Red Robin continued. "Part of the frame's crushing his chest." He grabbed the twisted metal and pushed, trying to relieve the pressure on the driver's ribs. There was no way for him and Spoiler to free him; they didn't have anything that could cut through the metal except explosives, which were far too risky. His nose twitched as he made another observation. "Stinks of booze and weed," he grunted. "Oh, damn…" In the back, a growing puddle of vodka met a still-lit cannabis joint.

With a soft _whump_, the puddle ignited. The flames reached the alcohol-drenched seats in next to no time, and suddenly Red Robin had to deal with being two feet from an inferno. He couldn't leave the casualty' he'd suffocate. He couldn't put it out – they didn't encounter fires often enough to constantly carry fire extinguishers. At least his suit was fireproof. As long as the gas tank was intact and the fire service weren't too far, he should be fine.

He reached into his belt and pulled out his breath mask. He took a quick pull of clean-ish air before putting it in the other man's mouth.

He narrowed his focus to holding up the metal strut and breathing shallowly. The heat was increasing, the air thick with fumes. Focus. Lock arm muscles. Ribcage up. Ribcage down. Nice and smooth. Ribcage up. Ribcage down.

An indeterminate length of time later, he felt a mask pushed into his mouth from behind as someone tried to pull him away. Blinking, he saw hands taking the strain of the beam, and let himself be removed.

When he was out of the way of the emergency services, he allowed himself to relax. His arms cramped and his lungs spasmed, trying to shift the smoke. He descended into a coughing fit.

Desperately trying to pull in clean air, he felt a strong pair of arms carry him away.

* * *

><p>Huntress waited in the shadows. B was next to her, and they were on the GCPD HQ roof with a lit signal. The door opened, and Commissioner Gordon arrived.<p>

"You calling yourself now?" the cop asked the apparently deserted roof.

"We need to talk," B growled, stepping into the light and deactivated the signal.

"Why does that scare me nearly as much as Arkham trouble?" Gordon sighed. "Go on."

"You are aware of Huntress," B stated.

"New girl, so to speak," Gordon grunted. "You worked with her on the Riddler/Cluemaster case. Bit violent, from what I've heard, but hasn't crossed any lines/"

"She's one of us," B said simply.

"Of course she is," Gordon muttered.

Huntress stepped out of the darkness. "Commissioner," she said, extending her hand.

"Huntress," he nodded, shaking her hand. "Don't know how much you've heard of this, but I have three ground rules. First, you respect my boys and girls. No attacking them. If you think they're up to something, bring it to me before you act. Second, no crime you can't back up. And if you're going to start breaking and entering after evidence, don't get caught. Finally, no killing unless it's absolutely unavoidable, and keep injuries down. Got all that?"

"Respect your people, no unjustifiable crime, as little killing and maiming as possible," she rattled off. The last one might cause a few problems. Sometimes it just wasn't safe to leave live enemies behind.

"Good," Gordon smiled. Now-"

Red Robin's voice crackled through the comm, and Huntress raised a hand to quiet Gordon. "RTA, Gladstone Drive," B relayed.

"I'll tell the boys on the front desk and call the other services," Huntress offered. Getting a slight nod from B, she backflipped off the roof. She flared her cape to slow her descent, a remodelled spare of Black Bat's. It had been trimmed to make it squarer, edgier than the original flowing cut, with an apparently decorative purple trim. It was actually a B Inc innovation that snapped out at the press of a button, similar to Red Robin's wings and increasing the surface area dramatically for gliding. Landing, she rolled to her feet and ran off to complete her mission.

* * *

><p>Spoiler watched anxiously as her boyfriend sat on the Batmobile hood and attempted to cough his lungs out. She and Huntress stood to one side as Batman gently examined the red patch on Red Robin's face. Car crashes just weren't part of their repertoire, although of course they'd do anything they could to minimize casualties. The girl had died on impact. Nothing could be done for that much head trauma. She must have forgone her seatbelt.<p>

"Alright, I need some statements," the inspecting officer said, coming over.

Batman stood. "Wrap up here," he ordered. "Huntress, take him back when you're done. Oxygen and burn cream." And so he departed.

Spoiler sighed, and turned to the cop. "Red Robin and I were two blocks away when we heard the crash…"

**AN: The car crash in this chapter is loosely based on a real crash I heard about during a road safety for new drivers seminar my year went on when we were sixteen/seventeen.**

**Quick challenge: I've been looking ahead a few chapters, and I have foreseen Thanksgiving coming up. 'Course I've foreseen it; I'm writing it. But I have a teensy problem. Being British, I know naught all about the intricacies of this holiday. So, if you celebrate it, would you mind please telling me what traditions you observe and what kind of things you'd give thanks for?**

**Next, I've started cross-posting on AO3. That means I'm also posting my chapters there, FYI. I intend to add post podfics, which are audio files of the stories being narrated. As yet, there isn't a lot over there, but I'm working on it.**

**Also updating today, Little Bird's Vengeance. A plot is hatched, but will it come to fruition? Next week, more of each.**

**Finally, please review!**

**Katara**


	9. Chapter 9: Landfall

**Jason and the Argonauts Chapter 9 Landfall**

_Elsewhen_

Nightwing felt the air get squished out of him as he landed hard after a brief tumble through a whirling kaleidoscope. He'd somehow wound up at the bottom of the pile-up, although at least Red Hood had at least stopped strangling him. The weight lessened as everyone scrambled to their feet, until he could flip upright himself, glancing around and automatically drew his escrima sticks. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed an assortment of lassoes, bows and arrows and handguns also coming free.

"Oh wow, this is so awesome!" a female voice squealed. "You're Nightwing, _the_ Nightwing! I thought the Bat would come, but I always heard he was _soo_ scary, but you're totally wonderful!" There was a brief pause punctuated by a massive intake of breath. "Sorry, sorry; I promised myself I wouldn't go all fangirl, but I mean, really, _it's you_ and – is that Red Hood? It's really you? How long did the Bat wait?"

Nightwing blinked in shock and confusion. The speaker was female, about his age, and was dressed in black. Black body suit. Black gloves. Black cape, with a sort of feathery look about it, and dark purple highlights. Her hair was black, her skin slightly dusky, and her eyes a pretty blue-green. She seemed to be extremely excited, and was talking almost as fast as a speedster.

"You're a _Bat_ fangirl?" Flash asked, mouth running at speed. "Fangirling over these two? Mr 'keeping-my-feet-on-the-ground-is-for-boring-people' and Mr 'you-don't-mind-if-I-punch-you-do-you?-well-tough'? Talk about questionable taste. Oh, and why were you talking about Bats in the past tense?"

"Quiet," Nightwing called across them. "Who are you? Where are we? What happened?" He paused and thought. "And why _are_ you talking about B in the past tense?"

"Okay," the girl said. "In reverse order, because he's been dead for centuries, you time travelled, the Clubhouse, and I'm Huntress."

"No you're not," Nightwing answered automatically, before the rest of the answers sunk in. "Wait, centuries? How far have we travelled?"

"About a millennium, give or take a few decades," Not-Huntress shrugged. "From Red Hood there, I'm guessing you're acquainted with the first Huntress? I'm her successor. Or to be more exact, her successor's successor's successor's successor's successor's, add a few more, successor's successor."

"What the hell do you mean we time travelled?" Red Hood interrupted.

"You pressed the signal button, right?" Not-Huntress asked, starting to sound unsure.

"Thingy 'bout yea big, green button?" Nightwing asked, gesturing to show the size. "We didn't press it so much as I landed on it when someone knocked me over." He glared at Red Hood.

"What the fuck is going on?" Red Hood demanded.

Nightwing sighed. "You know the story B came up with after…Kenya?" he asked.

Red Hood nodded. Not-Huntress frowned. "I know there was a story, but I never actually found out what it was," she mused.

Jason made a noise similar to Damian's 'tt'. "B and I had a falling out. I found my birth certificate, learned who my birth mother was, and ran off to find her. B followed, and arrived to find her dead and no trace of me."

"Because it was an open secret he wasn't fitting in to his new life, it seemed reasonably plausible that he'd run off," Nightwing shrugged. "But, why did B hide your death? It would have been simpler to admit you died with your mother."

"'The reason for this was later revealed to be due to a cryptic message signed with the Robin insignia. It transpired this message had been left by a future version of Huntress'," Not-Huntress quoted. Nightwing turned to look at her. "It's in the book," she supplied helpfully, holding up what looked like a hand bound sheaf of the same papery stuff the note had been written on.

"May I?" Nightwing asked, holding out his hand for the book.

"What was the date when you left?" Not-Huntress asked cagily.

"December twelfth, 2014," Troia answered. "Why?"

"Well, do you really want to know what your immediate future holds?" Not-Huntress asked rhetorically. "That passage references October 2014, when you first started working with your Huntress." She handed over the book.

Nightwing flipped it open at a bookmark near the front. It looked like an extremely high quality photocopy of a familiar script. "This is Red Robin's handwriting," he noted.

"We'd wondered who wrote this first section," Not-Huntress commented. "He's got a good style."

Nightwing found himself agreeing as he flicked through the book. It outlined the broad strokes of their lives, dealing with the major events in a detached, clinical manner while still explaining the emotional impact. Skimming past the passage dealing with the aftermath of Bruce's 'death', he turned over a page, and stopped. The back of the previous page covered Barbara's spinal reconstruction surgery and return to the streets, and Helena's adoption, but the new page was a much poorer copy, of a badly damaged original. "What happened here?"

"Not sure," Not-Huntress shrugged. "Family tradition says the book was damaged, and only after that were copies made."

"Before you get too carried away, you didn't really answer all the questions," Troia interrupted. "What's your other name, and what did you mean by 'the Clubhouse'?"

Not-Huntress seemed to space out a little, staring into the distance unseeingly. "I'm Rose Cain-Todd-Wayne," she murmured. "This is the headquarters of the Legion of Superheroes. A lot's changed since your time."

**AN: SORRY SORRY SORRY!**

**This chapter was being a beast, then real life blindsided me. However, I'm off work for a bit, so I'm hoping to catch up on the delayed chapters.**

**Also now: A bit more LBV.**

**Next time: Back to "normal life" with the Wayne family here in JA, and the latest goings-on in the Nolan-verse in Black and Red.**

**Please repair my now fragile ego with a review or two.**

**Katara**


	10. Chapter 10: Learning To Be Family

**Jason and the Argonauts Chapter 10 Learning To Be Family**

_Friday, 18__th__ November 2014_

Tim made a short notation, then looked over at one of his books. He had two translations of the Iliad, the narration for their performance, and a copy of the original ancient Greek text. His task, to create a dance version that could be performed by complete amateurs.

"How come you can understand ancient Greek so well?" Helena asked curiously. She, along with Cass, Steph, Jason and Damian, had occupied a corner of the assembly hall and were getting a head start on their homework.

"_I'm good friends with an Amazon,_" Tim reminded her in Romani.

Helena frowned. "_But…not right…class?_" she asked falteringly in the same language.

Tim blinked in confusion, then remembered she'd only been learning the language for a few weeks. "_Form, not class,_" he corrected. "_You're right, Amazonian is a more ancient form than Homeric, but I've had a passing familiarity with t since I was about seven._"

He returned to his work while his new sister puzzled out his answer. Bruce believed in total immersion learning, which meant they'd be speaking little else amongst themselves until she could hold her own. Even with the advantage that came from being multilingual to start with, she was going to have it rough for a bit.

"_Why very young_?" she asked. Steph whispered in her ear, and she corrected herself. "_Why so young?_"

Tim put down his pen and considered his answer. "_My parents were not fond of me,_" he said. "_No matter what I did, I was a disappointment. I used to try to win their approval. As they were archaeologists – more like tomb raiders, actually – I studied history and ancient languages._" He blinked and looked away. "_While they were absent on one of their trips, I taught myself enough to translate a scroll they'd brought home. Mom threw me across the room and broke my arm for 'daring to think I could learn something'. After that, I accepted I would never be good enough for her._"

Fighting the bitter tears that threatened to resurface, Tim returned to the passage on the single combat between Paris and Menelaus, ignoring the whispers as Steph and Cass made sure Helena had understood. He was just trying to work out how to safely show Menelaus swinging Paris around by the helmet when he felt Helena hug him.

"_I'm very sorry,_" she whispered. "_That's horrible._"

"_We've all had it bad,_" he said, trying to shrug it off. "_It's over now. They were wrong, and I've moved on from it now._"

"_At least your father didn't leave you the moment your mother got addicted to heroin,_" Jason commented.

Tim looked up, a sad smile gracing his lips. It was a normal way to deal with the bitterness of the years, laughing it off and joking over who had it worse. Of course, they all knew and accepted Jason had the trump card, but that wasn't the point.

"_My father cares for Mom and I so little he keeps getting himself sent to Arkham,_" Steph countered.

"_My mother…died…with a…erm…bad person,_" Helena offered, getting into the swing of it.

"_Was killed __**by**__ a bad person?"_ Tim suggested.

"_Yes, true,_" she agreed.

"_My father kidnapped my brother and broke his fingers in an attempt to compel me to return to him,_" Cass stated.

"_That was not your fault,_" Tim reminded her, knowing she still felt lingering twinges of guilt over the incident.

"_He gave me my first hit when I was five,_" Cass retorted.

"_Point._" He pushed his draft choreography over to the others. "_What do you think?_"

"_Looks straightforward enough,_" Jason mused.

"_Agreed. My mother challenged me to single combat to the death,_" Cass continued.

"What _are_ you lot talking about?" a newcomer demanded.

Tim looked up to see the Senior dancing Agamemnon standing over them.

"We're having a 'who's got the shittiest parents?' competition," Jason snarked. "Wanna join in?"

"Uh, my dad will only let me get a PS4 or and X-box One for Christmas, not both?" the boy offered hesitantly.

Damian rolled his eyes. "Tt. _My mother put a remote control in my spinal column and tried to use me to decapitate my brother._"

Helena winced as she worked it out. "_Which brother?_"

"Grayson."

"Right…" the Senior said blankly. "Ms Hopkins wants to see you. She said something about crossdressing."

Six voices, six languages, six muttered curses.

**AN: The next of the late chapters.**

**In case anyone doesn't know, the Iliad is the original tale of the Trojan war.**

**Most of the incidents cited are canon. They will all be covered in one way or another in Flashback, except for the one where Cass' father broke Tim's fingers, because that was in Family Ties.**

**Also updating now is Black and Red. It's a really important chapter, so be sure to check it out. Next update, hopefully tomorrow or Wednesday (but no promises), will be here and Black and Red again.**

**Please leave me reviews, I love 'em!**

**Katara**


	11. Chapter 11: Endless Years

**Jason and the Argonauts Chapter 11 Endless Years**

_Elsewhen_

Huntress Rose led the way to a sitting area and took a seat, hugging her knee to her chest. Nightwing, recognising the defensive posture, waited for her to start.

"Two things you'll have to remember," she started. "First, what you've seen in your lifetime changed things massively. Second, it's been long enough that certain trends have emerged. Over the generations, the community intermarried fairly heavily. I estimate that, by the fifth generation, 90% of the community was related, if distantly. This was never much of a problem; the gene pool was sufficiently diverse and there was never much marrying of close blood relatives. This was magnified within the Wayne family. There has been a fairly large incidence of cousin marriage, but not cousins by blood. Oh, and triple-barrelling surnames only started about six hundred years ago. Dunno why.

"In the family, almost everyone hit the streets. We call it 'going nightside', not sure if you'd be using that terminology yet." Nightwing inclined his head; they hadn't phrased anything like that, but it fitted with the name they'd given the active vigilante branch of Batman Inc. Huntress Rose continued. "About six-fifty, seven hundred years ago three, three and a half centuries after your time, we first started to make a distinction between the Wayne Family, and the Bat Clan."

"There's a difference?" Troia asked curiously. The entire family was notoriously single-minded in their mission. "Those who don't 'go nightside' aren't Bats?"

Huntress Rose took a sip of her drink. Nightwing had already tried it. It was a fruity concoction with fizz but no bubbles and none of the sweetness from conventional soda. Hopefully something they wouldn't have to wait a millennium for.

"What do you think the two main requirements for a really good vigilante?" Huntress Rose asked speculatively.

Nightwing furrowed his brow. "Skill and drive," he answered. They'd seen people try out the hero gig due to gimmicky powers – Luthor's Infinity Inc for starters – but hadn't had the drive necessary for sticking to the job.

Huntress Rose nodded. "Skill wasn't really a problem. Everyone had more than a little self-defence training, and there was never any noticeable lack of ability among nightside. But drive did cause problems. Most of the time the family managed to protect itself from personally suffering what we protected others from. This meant that only about thirty percent of the family became Bats. From that we noticed a few things.

"We have files with long term speculations that were made centuries; that's how I know all this. It was found that it takes some years to identify when someone's become a Bat, but it's not hard when you know what you're looking for. Bats can and will go all night, every night, for weeks, even months at a time, bounce back from extreme injury and even then refuse injury time. They get hit worse, but try harder and get better results. Most Bats are quoted as saying that it's because putting everything into the Mission is the only way to make sense of what happens in the darker parts of life."

"That sounds a lot like the Waynes we know," Flash commented slowly.

"They're what we aspired to be," Huntress Rose explained. She rose, and stalked over to the entrance to the balcony. She stared into the sky cluttered with aircars. "Seventy percent of the family never became Bats," she reiterated. "Five present of Waynes managed to make the transition by sheer force of will. Twenty-two percent broke from all that happened, and remade themselves. Three percent just…broke. Those figures were more or less accurate five years ago. I'm not sure what the percentages are now. I would point out that when one of a generation broke, so would most of that generation."

She took a deep breath and sighed, sending her cape fluttering behind her like a mass of feathers. It was mesmerizing, partly because it was hard to tell what gave it that effect.

"Names have passed down the years," she continued. "There has always been at least one Batman. Robin, Nightwing, Batgirl, Flamebird, Huntress – these have all been popular. Red Hood and Spoiler, not really."

Nightwing frowned. Flamebird was his namesake's partner in Kryptonian folklore, but no Bat had gone by that. Maybe next generation.

Huntress Rose was still talking. "Nearly four hundred years ago, my predecessor, the Huntress of that time, was pushed too hard. Her fiancé was killed. She went too far, and ended up killing three people live on air. There was a massive backlash, and Batman Inc was forced to either disband or go underground. You can guess what they chose.

"I am the first nightsider to be seen in action since."

Silence fell. Red Hood rose from his seat and padded over to her. She might be descended from both of them, but it was his name she bore. Nightwing watched, knowing his brother found the prospect of having children heartening, and that Rose would appreciate her grand-sire's concern.

"What happened to you?" Red Hood asked gently.

Rose turned around, and her face bore traces of tears threatening to fall. "When the Legion formed, and allied with the Science Police, we knew we'd have to take steps to ensure our integrity. We developed a backup plan in case one of us was captured, while trying to devise another strategy. But I was found. The protocol I had agreed to follow demanded that I surrender myself to them and us my access to their systems to safeguard our operations. The cost is that I can never be part of the family again."

Red Hood led her back to the couch and settled her next to her as her breathing became ragged. "I knew it might be me when I agreed to keep going, but I underestimated just how hard it would be," she hiccupped. She showed all the signs of someone letting herself break down for the first time in too long. "I've done my bit. I even filled in some mysteries in the book. But I just can't rebuild here."

Nightwing leant forward. "Why not?" he murmured. "Tell us, let us help you."

She smiled sadly. "I'm not powered. It's too dangerous to let me do anything," she explained. "I've been benched for four and a half years. It's killing me."

**AN: Dunno how many of you are keeping track, but I make it that I'm one week behind. I'll be working to try to catch up.**

**Yeah, so this chapter is filling in a bunch of gaps that have formed, what with skipping of millenia of social development.**

**Also updating now: Black and Red. Next, more JA, more B and R.**

**Please review!**

**Katara**


	12. Chapter 12 Tech Time

**Jason and the Argonauts Chapter 12 Tech Time**

_Saturday, 22 November 2014_

"Do we have an hour or two to talk about things?"

Helene looked up from the orange that was the last fragment of her brunch to see Tim holding a box file. Cass and Dick looked away from the furious staring match Jason and Damian were holding for the last sausage roll, and Bruce set aside the weekly gossip circular that obsessed about the Waynes. "What is it, Tim?" he asked.

"First, the new security system," Tim started. "It functions by reading the heart signature using this chip. The chip is programmed to recognise conscious and unconscious rhythms, and I hope to set it so lockdown is initiated if it is scanned while recognising unconscious rhythms or no rhythm at all."

"That seems unnecessarily complicated," Dick observed. "And shouldn't we be speaking Romani?"

Helena flushed, knowing that changing languages would, theoretically, be to her benefit, but worrying she wouldn't be able to keep track.

Tim shook his head. "Too much to discuss, too wide a vocabulary," he said, to Helena's relief. "Anyway, I'm going on the principle that someone, at some time, is going to want to break into the Annexe, This lock system will stop them, but we might as well make it a little trickier. And try to catch them at it. The chip is worn on a wristband. I figured that anyone with half a brain-"

"-which rules out most of Blackgate and half of Arkham-" Dick muttered,

"-would get suspicious if it was as simple as nicking our accessories, considering we have the option of fingerprint scanners," Tim continued. "So I came up with this design." He opened up the box file and handed out a few diagrams.

Helena took one and slid it between her and Cass. It showed a chip built into an alarm unit, which was linked ti a few wires, which were going to be sewn into a leather wristband along with a diamond nanotube, also sealed at the alarm chip.

"How do you take it off?" Dick asked dubiously.

"Uh…you don't", Tim answered sheepishly.

"You don't," Bruce repeated stonily.

Tim shrugged. "I couldn't think of a way to install a clasp without it either being something ridiculous like a fingerprint reader or completely negating the point of making it hard to steal. If you want it off, you'll have to either cut it off, which will trigger a distress signal, or dismantle the alarm chip. Which, obviously, is pretty hair trigger. It'll have to be assembled around the wrist, and stay there until we upgrade them. For this reason, they come in one design, black leather, and no customisation." He paused. "Of course this is just Mark 1. I don't think Mark 2 would be ready until after the Annexe is done. This will do for now."

"What is Mark 2?" Damian asked suspiciously.

Wordlessly, Tim passed over another sheet.

Dick leant across the table to read it upside down. "The entire bracelet is a cover for an implant?" he asked. "Ambitious."

"Tim, cybernetics may be a little extreme," Bruce said gently.

"Depends on how far you take it," Tim shrugged. "Just this, and maybe comms. Problem is, if one of us gets nabbed, has the bracelet removed, and then busts out, we can't get into the Annexe. The implant would allow it. I was thinking of including a tracker that sends off a distress signal if it registers a certain heart pattern with the lock chip. We can all alter out heart rate, yes?" he glanced around.

Helena frowned. "I've tried that, but…"

"There's a trick to it," Bruce told her. "I'll teach you later. What else, Tim?"

"That's all for the security system," Tim said. "I wanted to check off the final plans for the layout of the Annexe." More paper flew around the table.

Helena perused the plans. The underground floor was split into parking berths and workshops. Floor one, the ground floor, was full of things like HPLC and PCR machines. Biochemical stuff. Floor two, physical sciences, incorporating slightly wilder research projects. Three and four, hard- and software. "What exactly is going on with the top floor?" she asked.

"Originally, it was a med bay and training area," Tim explained. "Then Dick had an idea."

"Tim keeps falling asleep while waiting for his tests to be done, then waking up with cramp," Dick grinned. "Plus we'd been hoping to use it as a less intimidating Gotham base. So we need a more casual zone."

"So smaller business areas, and sofas and a massive TV-slash-computer screen," Tim finished. Then I just added a kitchenette and shower room. We'll probably use them often enough."

"Ramps around the edge of the room, and a large central hole in most of the floors with a ladder?" Helena asked skeptically.

"Yup," Tim nodded. "Any objections?"

Bruce shrugged. "As I said before, I'll stick to the Cave. It's your playground."

"Good," Tim answered. "One other idea I had. Batman Inc 'casual' uniforms." He pulled his microcomputer from his pocket.

"Your fingers are fine," Bruce said sharply. "You don't need to keep using it."

"But it's brilliant," Tim complained.

"The deal with the school was that you use it while your fingers were in splints. You're becoming dependent on it. Hand it over." Bruce held his hand out.

Helena watched an intense argument between them held purely through their stubborn stares. Eventually, Tim capitulated, slamming the gizmo onto the table and storming off.

Helena frowned, before slinking off after him. Those uniforms sounded interesting, and something more in line with her talents than cardiac wristbands.

**AN: This is one of those chapters that is either rather interesting or a bit dull, depending whether or not you like discussions about technology. Oh, and if you can't wait to find out what happens with the micro, check chapter 1.**

**Also up now, Black and Red. Next, more of that, and some Flashback instead of this one. I'm putting it to bed for a few weeks.**

**Please review!**

**Katara**


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